


language of flowers

by reversemagician (himaAlaya)



Series: nandemonaiya [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himaAlaya/pseuds/reversemagician
Summary: They’d gotten in to a fight a few weeks ago after Sojiro tried to replace his coffee with some herbal tea concoction that was supposed to make him better. Akira never bought in to that garbage, and he wasn’t about to start now. It was the last time Sojiro had tried to replace his coffee.





	language of flowers

**Author's Note:**

> (muffled life is strange soundtrack playing in the distance as i lounge on a chair sipping my own coffee) y'all ready.

He dragged his blanket down the stairs, wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm. It didn’t matter if it was already relatively warm in the cafe, he felt like he was freezing, shivering every time the blanket so much as slipped from his shoulders. Sojiro had called him down to the cafe this morning. It was already enough of a struggle to move around his room, let alone get up and down the stairs when he needed to. It was too early to be open to the public, and far too early for Akira to even be awake right now.

He slid into his seat, the one at the counter closest to the siphons. Sojiro turned around, placing a mug in front of him. They’d gotten in to a fight a few weeks ago after Sojiro tried to replace his coffee with some herbal tea concoction that was supposed to make him better. Akira never bought in to that garbage, and he wasn’t about to start now. It was the last time Sojiro had tried to replace his coffee. He felt bad, getting angry over something so small. He didn’t want to be treated any differently because he was sick. He’d already had that happen to him once, it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with again.

Sojiro eyed him, the kid looked terrible. Dark bags under his eyes, glasses stark against his gaunt face. Akira rubs his eyes, pushing his glasses farther up his face. He looks like someone who is dying, and there’s nothing Sojiro can do for him. He was supposed to protect him, but how do you protect someone from himself? Akira’s movements were slow and precise, trying his best not to exert more energy than he needed to. It hurt, it hurt to breathe and it hurt to move. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy a warm cup of coffee, but even that hurt him in the end. He gripped the porcelain mug, glaring at it. It wasn’t the coffee’s fault, it was no one’s fault but his own like his brother had told him. 

The bell on the door jingles, and he can hear light footsteps through the cafe. “I’m sorry, we’re still not open yet.” Sojiro’s voice is soft, almost like if he spoke any louder he’d spook Akira.He

hated this, he hated being treated like he was fragile and delicate. 

“My apologies. There’s something I’d like to discuss with your ward.” The voice was familiar, and when Akira turned to look, he wasn’t surprised that it belonged to Akechi.

“Ward? Did you seriously just refer to me as his ward?” Akira spoke up, reminding the two of them that he was, in fact, sitting right there. “You’re such an old man.” Akechi slid effortlessly in to the seat next to him. Akira turned away, staring at the murky depths of his coffee. Akechi never took his eyes off him for a moment. How did he always know when to kick him when he was down? It must be some talent he has. Sojiro placed another cup on the counter, this time in front of Akechi. So he wasn’t going to kick him out. Alright. Let him stay and watch Akira suffer like he was on display for all to see.

“How bad is it?” Akechi wasn’t one to mince words was he.

“Terminal.”

Akechi nodded, reaching for his coffee to take a sip. There was nothing else to say, not about this anyways. Akechi got what he wanted, an answer. Akira got nothing, maybe just a cup of coffee, some pity. He could feel it radiating off of Akechi. That was the last thing he wanted, especially from him. Akira turned away, taking his mug with him. He wanted to go upstairs and run away from the problem that was suddenly presented to him. He wouldn’t though, he knew that if he did Sojiro would just chase him down and make him come back downstairs to eat. 

The two of them sat in silence as Sojiro fussed with his curry. Nothing about Akechi softened, his posture stiff as ever. “What do you want.” The words were out before he even had time to think about them. Akira would probably regret it later, but it’s not as if there was a later he could really worry about. “Did you come to marvel at the terminally ill, or is there a reason you’re actually here.”

“Oh, I actually came here for the coffee. Marvelling at the terminally ill is just the icing on the cake this morning.” He smiled, that perfect TV smile he always had on. Akira made a face, turning away just in time for Sojiro to place two plates of curry down.

“Break it up, boys. Eat something instead of arguing.” The warm and familiar smell drifted through the empty cafe. Akira welcomed the distraction, the familiarity of curry in the morning. He could at least enjoy that without Akechi being an asshole. He thanked Sojiro for the meal, taking his spoon just as Akechi once again opened his mouth.

“Oh, no, thank you. I don’t eat breakfast.” Akira couldn’t help but roll his eyes, and reach over. He pulled the plate out from in front of Akechi before he could even get the spoon in to his meal. Akira stuck out his tongue, childishly getting his way for the first time in a long time. Sojiro didn’t intervene, simply watching the two boys in front of him. “Really?”

Akira took both of the plates, letting his blanket fall off his shoulders. The chill got to him, but it didn’t matter, he had managed to win at least this one. “Yeah, really.” Akechi stood up, making a frustrated noise as he braced the counter with his hands. Akira knew that there were things he wanted to say, so many things that were going to be left unsaid regardless. Akechi looked at him, really took a look at him now. The signs were there, clear as day despite how much bite Akira still had behind his words. He really was dying. “What now.”

Akechi stared, taking in the reality of it all. He looked thin, almost gaunt. His skin was pale and his eyes looked like they were sinking into his skull. It was barely visible, but Akira was shaking, straining with the effort to keep himself upright after weeks of bedrest. A crash brought him out of his thoughts, despite watching Akira he barely registered that one of the plates he was holding had fallen, porcelain skittering across the floor and mixed with rice and curry. Akira heaved, wrapping his now free arm around his stomach. Sojiro rushed in, grabbing the second plate from his hands before it could fall. Akechi couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. 

He coughed, a disgusting hacking noise filling up the once peaceful morning. Yellow petals fell from his mouth, lacking all the grace one would normally expect of the plant. It was wet, the petals finding a new home on the floor as Akira continued to cough. Akira felt like his lungs might burst, his heart hammering against his ribs as he slowed down. The petals on the floor were a damp cluster, heaped together in front of him. Akira hadn’t realized he had fallen to his knees, hands bracing himself against the wooden floorboards. Akechi stepped forward, wary of the broken plate.

“Go. Just, go.” His voice sounded pathetic, even to him. Sojiro said nothing, helping Akira to stand and draping the heavy comforter around his shoulders again. “You’ve had your fun, go laugh at me somewhere I can’t see.” He pulled the blanket around him tighter, using it to protect himself from Akechi’s staring.

Akechi Straightened his gloves, standing stiffer than before. “If you insist.”

“I do. Now… Just leave.” He said weakly, standing shakily on his own legs. He pushed Sojiro away from him, hardly any strength behind it. “Just leave me alone.”


End file.
